


Countdown

by PaintMeViolent



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-24
Updated: 2012-03-24
Packaged: 2017-11-02 11:15:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaintMeViolent/pseuds/PaintMeViolent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Countdown for his life had begun. Companion piece to Crawl out of your skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Countdown

_Eight._

The Chamber is agonizingly cold and pitch-dark with only deep green light illuminating it. Ginny’s hair is fire – Gryffindor fire – but with every passing minute the glimmer of this fire is dying away. But he can see it – the fire hasn’t been gobbled by the laughing Demon yet. The fire gives him hope to kill the Demon and end it all.

But there is a portion of him that wants to save the monster, that arches to absorb it into itself. But this part is so tiny that he hesitates only for a second before stabbing the diary with the Basilisk’s fang – once, twice… And he watches with satisfaction as the handsome teen – monster – writhes in agony – and who is satiated with pain of another now?

_(Stupid, stupid boy. You should have listened to the ghost – nothing vanishes without a trace.)_

And as his head hits the marble floor of the Chamber, he can’t notice the tentacles of golden light reach out to him.

_(Oh, silly child is still unaware)_

_Seven._

He wakes up at night clutching his scar and shaking like a leaf.

_(You mustn’t be afraid to dream of that, Potter)_

He had been killed. Someone murdered him with a flick of the wand and an insane gleam in the blue eyes. He prays for the dream not to be prophetic.

_(Darkness approaches, mind full of fear, eyes search for hope, for light, but find only sorrow in what is to come.)_

When he looks at the burned hand and the ring, a very big part of him wishes to claim the ring

_(…again)_

He doesn’t understand. Why should he?

_(And it’s the biggest mistake. From that moment he doesn’t question his desires. Foolish boy.)_

But the ache never goes away and sometimes he catches himself looking at the ring. He shakes his head and resists the temptation. And why is the ring so familiar?

_(Oh, you forgot, right?)_

_Six._

When he first lays his eyes on the locket, something feels off. It wasn’t his. No, it wasn’t his.

_(Finally catching up, boy?)_

And as soon as he takes it from Dumbledore, he finally understands where the traitor had vanished – became one of those Inferi, no doubt.

_(He deserves that for the betrayal, don’t you agree?)_

When he later tears the locket from the toad, he is relieved. It’s whole.

_(Is it?)_

As Ron destroys the locket, the soul piece rushes around the clearing and then vanishes but not before the horrifying feeling of something inside growing larger flares us.

_(You see how similar we are? You and I are two of many pieces of the whole.)_

_Five._

As he breaks into the vault of Bellatrix Lestrange, he sees Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup. Relief washes over him.

_(Joy overtakes him. It’s still here.)_

He isn’t sure about his feelings when he takes the gold cup in his hands. He thinks it is right, because Voldemort is an inch away from overtaking the wizarding world completely, crushing the resistance with his bare hands.

_(It feels rightwarmamazing.)_

When Ron returns with the ruined remains of the Cup, he is full of hope for Voldemort to be vanquished.

_(He wants to stab the idiot with his wand. Oh, but he doesn’t have it. He wants to choke him. However, his hands won’t close around the boy’s throat. But he would have done it somehow if it wasn’t for Granger and all those faceless students surrounding him.)_

And then he feels utterly horrible – he shouldn’t be thinking that. He _should_ n’t.

_Four._

The diadem is dull and worn out, but it is throbbing with life.

_(And why shouldn’t it?)_

His fingers are already grazing it gently when the voice of Malfoy – stupid blond – breaks through his haze of happiness at finding another piece.

_(Go, Crucio yourself!)_

The Fiendfyre is unstoppable. It devours everything in the way. And the diadem falls victim to the fire beasts that are chasing them down. But not before the soul piece finds a new host.

And Harry thinks that it is destroyed. There is only one Horcrux left. He thinks that…

_(And who you are now to have an opinion?)_

_Three._

He fears his encounter with Voldemort but at the same time he doesn’t. His fate is in his hands and he had never before let anyone control it. And he’s not about to start now. And he is not afraid of death.

_(But you are.)_

He is going to die with his head held high. And if he dies tonight, he’ll go with no regret. He won’t cower.

_(I won’t cower.)_

He sees thin lips move; a flash of green and everything goes black.

_(It’s the game you finally lose.)_

_Two._

When he sees Neville charge at Nagini, he feels worried.

_(It’s a necessary loss… after all there are millions of snakes)_

But as the Gryffindor sword chops off the snake’s head, _He_ thinks that the piece is not to be lost. Everything has its use and the expiration date. Nothing and no one can live forever… except _Him_.

_One._

Facing the monster he thinks that Voldemort is ugly. There is no fear, because he will win. Voldemort doesn’t have any rights to exist. He has more soul than Voldemort.

And as he watches Voldemort fall, he doesn’t feel regret or a sting of any other emotion. After all he achieved his goal.

_(Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends)_

It was over.

_(Over? No, it’s only the beginning. My beginning.)_

This time he’ll do everything different. Because, really, he doesn’t want to turn into Voldemort

_…again._


End file.
